


Life is Built on Lies

by d-ama-ien (ama_janee)



Series: A Lifetime of Lies [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: AU, Other, this is so painfully self indulgent sorry not sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-25 06:24:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16655905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama_janee/pseuds/d-ama-ien
Summary: This story is just my OC from Part One, now in the modern setting, living with the consequences of what happened in the house. Those consequences primarily being Dark and Warfstache.This is written with my personal understanding of what happened in Who Killed Markiplier along with a lot of headcanons surrounding the characters vs the real people who play them (an example being that Tyler and Robert are actually reincarnations of the butler and chef, which is why they play the same type of role in A Date With Markiplier). So please enjoy, even though this is terribly self indulgent. OC can also be read as a self insert character if you prefer! (I don’t name her in the story even though I have a character designed for her)





	1. Lies and Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my tumblr @d-ama-ien for lots of Ego content, and to get updates on stories! I may also open requests in the future.

Lie until what you want becomes the truth. Lie until you can’t remember what is a lie and what is the truth. Lie until it’s not a lie anymore. For _decades_. Lie until you don’t know how to stop, until you couldn’t if you wanted to. Lie because it’s life on the line, and life is for the living. Who knows, I could be dead tomorrow. Those words haunt me when I see him. You were dead tomorrow, you should still be dead today. _That’s not your body. He deserved it more than you ever will._

That’s unfair when he was my friend too. I never got as close to Mark as I did to Damien.

That wasn’t Mark’s fault, Damien and I just got along better. We only had space to ignore our forced family roles when with Mark, in that fucking house. Hellhole. Will and Mark never seemed to mind it, but Damien and I never felt quite right there. Old house, probably haunted. Possessed. Alive. Malicious. Celine thought it too, didn’t see what it really was until it was too late and had already gotten to her.

I miss Celine.

I miss them all, the ones who “lived” didn’t come out the same, and that includes me. I barter lives now, sacrifice people to keep the bloodlust under control. Never sacrifice myself, I never had. I had my chance decades ago, to let them die was to seal my fate into this role. Will killed them, Damien and Celine abandoned them, I let them die. That blood is on my hands, and everyone Wilford hurts, and everyone Dark hurts, its all my fault. I didn’t flee, I wasn’t as smart as Chef or Benjamin, I wasn’t as active as Abe in trying to stop this, I wasn’t good enough to help, and I wasn’t smart enough to leave or to die. Death meant nothing there if the house had a body for you to take. Dark told me that once while holding a knife to my throat.

“Death meant nothing there, unluckily for you it means something here.”

I don’t bring up the house anymore. It triggers something in them that’s worse than anything they would usually do. That would have broken me if I hadn’t already shattered with that mirror our old friend was trapped in. Not anymore, Mark had the house demolished. I haven’t gone to the land. I don’t want to know if I could still feel their presence.

It's better to not to know. Or to _pretend_ not to know. I don’t know what happened in that house. I don’t know Robert or Tyler, they’re as new to me as Mark is. And his “egos,” I don’t know them either. They aren’t real as far as anyone is concerned. Anyone except their victims I suppose. Yeah, it’s probably a concern if you were to die at the hands of one of those “egos.” Good thing they aren’t real, and can’t hurt anyone. Good thing Mark is nothing more than a fun YouTuber and a good actor. Good thing Tyler has no memory of his past life. Good thing Damien and Celine were never real, and good thing Mark’s body is truly his. Good thing he didn’t _steal it_. And good thing I have no memory of this nonexistent past. Good thing I can keep my mouth shut. I learned after that first scream, its best to just shut up. And to never say their names. Not the name of that once beloved Mayor, or his older sister the Seer. Not the name of a long forgotten District Attorney. Not even the eccentrically lovable Colonel. He doesn’t really remember that identity now, but the mention of it never fails to set him off.

That’s the real reason I can never bring up the house, tell anyone the truth. Those events ruined us. I saw Benjamin once, he was looking for a job. It was difficult, as everyone thought he had killed his last master. I asked if he was recovering from the events, from Mark’s death. He snapped, screamed in my face.

_“There is no recovery for a murderer! That house ruined me!”_

He collected himself, offered his apologies, and I never saw that incarnation again. Tyler has no ill feelings toward Mark or me. They’re good friends now. I hate Tyler sometimes, seeing him reminds me of Benjamin and how we ruined his life. How we would probably do it to Tyler. That was what Mark did. He was always a massive asshole after getting some attention, but not a bad person. But then Celine and Will, then the years of isolation and those whispers… Mark was destined to destroy everyone, destroy himself in the process. But to let Wilford and Dark have a place in the public eye, on his channel, it was too much. He was asking for the suffering that came in their wake, the pain that started because of him. Yet he didn’t care about what they were doing, the power they were getting, he cared that he gained more fame and praise for his talents. To take advantage of someone we knew as a past life, to draw new people into his cycle, it was too easy for him.

Maybe I did sacrifice myself once, I’m here, aren’t I? In LA with my own cover as a fellow YouTuber, now apart of the team behind Mark’s best and brightest ideas. I had been in hiding for a long time, until Mark contacted me, asked me to set up a channel and start posting, gain some traction. He needed my help to keep Wilford and Dark under control, as if that was possible. They were getting bold, sloppy, and they looked too similar to Mark for him to not get caught up in their shit.

I missed the friends I used to have, my new life was empty without them. Living with what had happened. And now, I _literally_ live with what happened. It was hard, I won’t lie. I knew I wouldn’t find my friends in LA, but I know that I really wanted to. I wanted to so badly that I came out here just to see those monsters work with my own eyes. I thought it would separate the people I used to know from the creatures that inhabit their bodies now. It works most of the time, but when I wake up and find a sleeping Dark laying beside me, the sleep-tousled hair and his calm face looks so much like Damien that it hurts. I made the mistake out loud one day, called him that forbidden name. Wilford stopped him from killing me, barely. It took some serious coaxing to remind Dark how good I was to them, that I brought them their toys, kept them out of trouble, how I gave my body to them whenever they wanted, how I always took Mark’s anger when he tried to blame one of them for a poorly received video. Even all that was barely enough to get him to stop, but he collected himself, let me breathe, and told me that if I ever used that name again there would be nothing Wil could do to stop him from punishing me. I accepted, but, god, he looks just like him. It’s not even his body, he should look like the DA... Would it be easier if he took their form or the form of Celine? At least I wouldn’t be staring into the face of my dead lover. Supposedly, Damien and Celine’s souls make up parts of Dark. Dark was no Damien or Celine of mine, I know it was all the house that made them. For any of their flaws, they wouldn’t be able to become something like that. Not if Damien’s soul was really in there. He was too good, he couldn’t become something like that. How did he become something like that? I see him when Dark is playing with his toys, he’s charming. Damien and Celine were good with people, no one questioned them. But I don’t remember them as manipulators. Or maybe I was manipulated into thinking that of them. Damien was in politics after all, Celine involved with her husband’s best friend...

“Hey there dollface, why aren’t you ready to go? We’ve had this collab scheduled for weeks, you better not be bailing.” Mark very rudely interrupted my thoughts. I had lost track of time while getting ready. It happens when you’ve been alive for so long, an hour feels like nothing when you’ve been alive for almost a century. I forgot that I was participating in the video for next week. Improve games, Change probably. You’d think they would be sick of that one after the tour, but it seemed like the fans weren’t.

“Not bailing, just got distracted. Give me ten to finish my makeup.”

“You get five, we’re meeting with Dark to negotiate the next ego appearance. You need to be there to keep him calm, the fucker never likes what I have to say.”

“Can’t see why Mark. I’ll be right over.” He makes some mocking noise of agreement. How lucky I am to be privilege to the true Markiplier. At least he pretends to be a decent person in public nowadays. I quickly finish my makeup, neither of the guys have much patience when it comes to their meetings. The office is already thick with tension when I enter, Dark’s aura creeping outwards while the telltale ringing that accompanies his rage fills the air. “Come on guys, we know better than to start meetings without a mediator.”

They haven’t been able to stand each other for decades. Damien always forgave his friends, but Celine has the right to feel anger towards Mark. I can’t say Mark has the right to hate Dark personally, but Dark isn’t exactly the kind of person to like.

“Maybe if you could keep on top of things we wouldn’t need to start without you.” That ever mocking tone, I can’t stand him, “Speaking of on top of things, your update schedule has changed. Why only two a week instead of the agreed upon three?”

“Mortal YouTubers take breaks all the time asshole. Even you take breaks. And even if I’m not mortal, I still get worn down Mark. You know how draining it is to work alongside your egos, it’s why I’m here!”

“You're lucky to be have my beautiful face all around you!”

“I said what I said, Mark. Can we get on task, I know this meeting isn’t about me.”

“No, of course it isn’t,” Dark speaks for the first time, his aura has retracted to his space. Calm, but he’s too stiff. Not a good sign, until he cracks his neck and his posture relaxes the slightest bit. Don’t have to be on guard right now, the two are as stable as they get. I hardly listen to what they’re negotiating, just watch. Keep my ears open for any alarming changes (the ringing from Dark and both of them have noticeable vocal pitch changes when they start getting heated), keeping my eyes open for any disturbing posture shifts. Dark is cracking his neck, adjusting his clothes, Mark is tense but still lounging in his seat like he owns it, they are both still in the safe zone. They stay there for a while until Mark says something that sets Dark off immediately.

“I said no more videos on that topic. Especially with Wilford as the focus, do you want the crew to die? He may not remember those times, but any little thing can set him off when it comes to that. He especially isn’t safe to have around Mick again, you know he almost used the real gun last time they met.”

“You guys are in demand now more than ever! Especially the backstory stuff, with the detective's popularity I need him to get a feature. Obviously, Wilford is the only candidate, it’s exactly what Mick’s end lines were setting up!” So that was the big proposal. Mark had already been in the writing process for this video, it was going to be an ambitious project. Not the scale of WKM, but he was going for a more professional and cohesive final project. I didn’t know he wanted the actual Wilford to be the actor… having him play the Colonel for just a handful of scenes was an almost fatal mistake for Mick. Mark was right that no one could act out Wilford’s descent into madness except for the man himself, but to film anything with weapons was just stupid. If I hadn’t swapped them when I noticed the prop gun was still on the table downstairs… someone like Mick, in front of our crew, it would’ve been too much to come back from. But Mark was right about the demand for the video.

“Dear,” I refocus at Dark’s pet name, “would you be so kind as to talk some sense into our beloved friend here?”

“Well, I’m sorry Dark, but I think Mark’s video idea is really great, but Ma-” I don’t get to finish, Dark’s hand is closed around my throat, and his aura is overpowering, the ringing deafening.

“Come on man, we’re filming today! No visible marks on her please!” Mark doesn’t try to save me other than giving a verbal lashing, but that was the safest course of action for us both. I don’t struggle, it’s always best to sit still and not let him know how much you’re hurting.

“Please,” I manage to gasp out, “I wasn’t finished!”

“Darky-poo, what are you doing to our little darling? Surely she deserves to talk!” Dark is pulled off of me, taken to the other side of the room by Wilford himself. I hate that he kept that teleporting ability from the house, he’s impossible to keep out now. But he’s the only one who can stop Dark when he’s on a rampage, a fact that the other egos and I use liberally when we set off one of Dark’s triggers. For a psychopathic killer, Wilford is very in touch with emotions. He is always hovering around when someone is feeling angry or stressed, always ready to talk them down. It’s useful to have someone like that around with multiple psychos in the house. Someone has to protect the big mouths like Bim and the Jims from getting themselves killed. I feel Mark’s hands on my shoulders, he’s helping me sit up and wrapping soothing arms around me, muttering words of comfort and coaching me into calming and deep breathes. It’s his way of thanking me for agreeing with him. Wilford is doing some similar emotional stabilizing over with Dark. “Now, we’re going to listen to what our beloved lady has to say, aren’t we? And even if we don’t like it, we aren’t going to kill her when she’s supposed to be recording today.”

Dark sighs, and makes a lazy “go on” gesture. I continue hoarsely, “As I was saying, the video is a good idea. But Mark, we can’t use him as the actor. You’re going to need to hone those acting skills and play him yourself. We aren’t going to put Mick or the crew on the line for the sake of authenticity. Dark can help you get the script accurate if you’re struggling, and I know him well enough to judge your impression, okay?”

Mark mutters something before uttering a sharp “Fine.” I sigh in relief, and Dark pulls away from Wilford to shake Mark’s hand. Formal as ever that one. Like he didn’t try to kill me seconds ago. He does turn to me, however, having the decency to look genuinely apologetic.

“I must apologize for my aggression. I may have been quick to pull the trigger that time.”

“Yeah, maybe a little. Thanks for apologizing at least. I’ll see you guys tonight, we gotta go if we’re going to be on time, right Mark?” Mark agrees, and the two of us leave for his house.


	2. Short

The car ride is stiffly quiet, Mark seems more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen him. He doesn’t quite understand Darkiplier, nor does he truly understand Wilford. He hated playing the Colonel in Who Killed Markiplier, it’s the only reason he had Wil play the ending scenes instead of doing it himself like he had the rest of the video. The presence of multiple Marks was explained with excellent editing, but really there were at least two on set at any given time. The rest of the crew wasn’t privy to that information, but Mark only played himself and the Colonel, and I think a small handful of scenes as Damien. Anything that required interaction with Celine actually. Pam looked too much like her for Dark to be stable. But Dark played Damien for the vast majority of the production, disguising his aura and using his abilities to trade off with Mark without anyone seeing the two of them. Filming those events was the worst thing Mark had ever done to me, probably the worst thing he’s done to himself. To live it through the eyes of his dead friends, to have to go and understand the house with Dark’s help, to learn things he hadn’t even known about the events, it was understandably an overwhelming task. I don’t think he regrets it if he’s going to continue playing with their backstories though. I love that the fans blame Mark for making the backstories so sad- it _is_ his fault those backstories happened in the first place, but he didn’t design those characters and then make them sad out of nowhere. That’s just how their lives, how our lives, have been. 

The car stops now, we’re at Marks place. He sighs deeply before suddenly facing me.

“I’m sorry. You don’t deserve the treatment the egos give you, and I’m too weak to take it in your place. I wouldn’t trade places with you for anything, I’m just a dick like that. But I do feel like I need to give my appreciation more. You deserve a true break, I won’t give that to you. Couldn’t if I wanted to. As much as they mistreat you, you are basically the only person that has any sway over those guys.” He stops there, looking at me expectantly.

“I’m not sure if that “apology” deserves thanks because it’s literally the worst one that I have ever received, and I receive weekly apologies from guys who tried to kill me. But the fact that you tried is way more than you usually give, so thank you.” He shrugs and leaves the car without another word. I join him inside, putting on my happiest face to greet our friends with. Ethan and Tyler are already here, waiting for us. We’re a bit later than anticipated (Mark didn’t schedule a murder attempt into his time frame for the meeting), but we still need to get the video recorded. By the end of our shenanigans, there are almost two hours of footage from the game, not including the hour-long dinner break we take. It’s a fun time, full of dirty and cheap jokes, plenty of laughter from all sides. Mark has surrounded himself with genuinely good people, their energy is contagious. I’ve always been empathetic, part of the reason why being in the house with the egos is so difficult for me. The emotions there… are overwhelmingly negative. Here is so contrastingly positive that it almost puts me in shock everytime I’m over. Plenty of the egos are nice, but even those ones are burying layers of pain. Mark is the only one like that in this house, everyone else is genuinely kind, genuinely happy to be with each other. As we wrap up the recording, Mark announces that he’s going to be able to start serious work on the Warfstache project, and tosses in that I’m to oversee the project as an assistant director/producer type figure. There’s surprised questioning as to why I’d agree to take on a significant role in his ambitious project, I hide my annoyance with a shrug.

“Well, he’s the butter and egg man, ya know? Even if he’s more egg than anything else.”  


Mark makes a loud noise of offense, but the others seem confused. “Butter and egg man? And why is Mark an egg?” Tyler questions, looking at me like I grew an extra ear. Slang confusion is definitely one of the hazards of a long lifespan, especially when living with someone like Wil who uses old slang more than anything else. 

“I’ve been looking into some thirties slang for the script! We think Warfstache is pretty time confused, so using old slang mixed with modern slang would help convey that. Butter and egg man means he’s the one cutting the checks.” Everyone seems satisfied with that answer, and no one seems to notice that I didn’t define ‘egg’ for them. Mark gives me a deliberate elbow to the rib for it though. The group is distracted by some new topic, and suddenly Ethan seems very excited. 

“Since it’s already dark out we should just stay over and watch some movies or something!” Ethan and Tyler are both excited, but Mark gives me a concerned look. I can’t stay away for a night without planning it in advance, I need to make a safety plan for if (when) something inevitably goes wrong so that I can get back to my house as quickly as possible. Honestly, I’ve already been here longer than I should’ve been, and some of the egos get on edge very quickly if I’m gone longer than I should be. Seeing as I’m one of three people in the house that keeps them from destroying it, they have valid reasoning to be worried if I’m not around. 

“Sorry guys, I have plans tonight that I absolutely can’t cancel. But something enjoyable would be a sleepover collab! We can plan games and have Kat and Amy come too and film some of it for the channel! We can plan to do it about a week in advance, yeah?” The others enthusiastically agree, a Markiplier sleepover! Such wow! They don’t press for details about my plans, just say we’ll work out a date in the group chat later, and Mark and I escape. He drives faster than usual, way over the speed limit. I’m increasingly anxious, knowing that there’s no way I’ll find something pleasant waiting for me. I’ll consider it a success if there aren’t any dead bodies there honestly.

I practically leap out of the car when Mark pulls up to the house. It’s still standing, but that says nothing of the interior state. Mark doesn’t move from the car, but he does wait. Glad to know I have some backup if necessary at least, though I can’t say the two of us could take on someone like Google if he were in a mood. The house is quiet when I open the door, and at first, I think I’m lucky. However I notice how the light from the porch isn’t coming into the living room, and then I know I am thoroughly fucked. I wave Mark away, there’s nothing he could say to make things better for me if Dark is this pissed. I feel his aura wrap around me as soon as I fully enter the room, it impatiently drags me to one of the seats and holds me down. I stay calm and very still. Dark is found of sensory deprivation, I’m used to using things other than my sight or even my hearing to know when he’s approaching. It’s easier when I’m allowed to hear, I can feel him approaching from behind. There are other footsteps in the room though, lingering near the hallway. At least three people, someone is tapping their foot, someone is very continually shifting their weight, and someone has been rod still since entering the room. I’m not sure exactly who they are, but knowing that there are others with me is slightly soothing. Dark is the most extreme when it comes to outbursts and punishments, likely why there’s a small group hovering. I have a few guesses, as some are more trusted or useful in these situations, and others are easy to tell if they’re around (Host is quiet with his narrating, but I’d hear him through this thick silence). Dark is at the back of the chair now, and I’m ready when he touches my face. 

“Why are you, late darling? You know that it’s your _job_ to be responsible and timely when it’s Mark who is in charge.” 

“Sometimes it’s out of my hands. Especially when he’s my ride back.”

“Is that sass I hear?”

“No, sir. I won’t make up excuses, time got away from us.” Dark hisses at my answer, but I know he wouldn’t be pleased with a lie either. “May I ask who is in the room with us?” 

Dark’s hand tightens at my jaw, and my head is directed towards where the trio stands. The room floods with light instantly, I have to blink to adjust to the sudden change. I just barely stop myself from sighing in relief when I see the trio. Warfstache, who is always best at calming Dark, and often takes my side since he enjoys my company. Dr. Iplier, medical assistance for me if Dark goes too far. Google, logical, intelligent, and the only ego strong enough to actually restrain Dark if Wil can’t calm him down. My chances of living through the night are significantly higher if they’re on alert to the situation. I can tell he knows their presence is reassuring to me, I feel his anger roll through me. 

“You know, I don’t think we need supervision for tonight,” his voice is low and controlled, and I’m smart enough to be terrified, “In fact, I will give my word that I won’t cause you any physical pain tonight. But I want you to stick close to me for the next day or so, so we can make sure your work ethic is staying intact. Does this sound fair to everyone?” Dr. Iplier and Google look as concerned as I feel, but I also know that Dark takes his word seriously. If he promises no harm for the night, well… 

“Based on past situations, I think it is safe to trust his word. We must reevaluate the need of a safety team.”

“Well, I think it’s wonderful that Dark is finally treating our little sugar cube with the decency she deserves! I trust that he’ll keep his word, so should you two.” You have to appreciate Wilford’s heart sometimes. Only a guy as crazy as him could see anything worthy of trust in a literal demonic entity. Dark’s aura drops off of me, he releases my jaw while the three egos continue to discuss the situation. It looks like Wilford’s reasoning won as the others shrug and leave the room soon after. Dark starts to head upstairs and tells me to join him in his room when I’m ready to go to sleep. Wil comes over to me and draws me into a close hug, his lips and mustache brushing against my ear. 

“If he gives you any trouble, I’ll be right around to help. But I really do think we can trust his doll.” His voice is low as he whispers to me, knowingly hiding the exchange from Dark. I pull away, smile at him, and quietly thank him. I’m worried about Dark’s promise. Phrasing is everything when he offers his word, there’s almost always a loophole in whatever he agrees to. He said tonight, was that the issue? At 12:01am he would beat me to a bloody pulp and say that he kept his promise? Or is there something worse than physical torment waiting for me? At least Wilford seems to be alert, even if he’s a bit too optimistic about my situation. I stall as best I can without actually delaying- Dark would know and I would suffer for it. I take a shower, only a few moments longer than my usual ones, and lazily braid my hair before putting on my pajamas. I walk to Dark’s room, hesitantly knocking on the door before entering. He’s sitting up in bed, reading something. He doesn’t even offer acknowledgment when I greet him, so I just go around the bed and slide in next to him. He slowly turns a page in his book. 

“May I,” I pause, my voice is too loud in the silence, but Dark is looking at me with a raised brow, “May I sleep?” He nods and goes right back to his book. The lights dim as I settle, I lay on my side turned away from him. I tense up when I hear him quietly humming something under his breath, but nothing happens to me. I allow myself to relax to the soft rumble of his voice, falling asleep quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used a list of thirties slang for the "butter and egg man" and "egg" thing. To save a google, butter and egg man means guy with the money/cutting checks, egg is slang for a crude person.


	3. Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MUST READ- This chapter contains an act of non-consensual sex. It is bracketed off and completely skip-able, there's nothing of plot importance that isn't explained afterwards, so you don't have to read it if you don't want to. You've been warned if you choose not to skip it.

The bed is empty when I wake up the next morning, and I can’t tell if he’s in the room or not. The fact that I’m awake means I’m alive, so it’s a small win. I sit up slowly and see Dark across the room with his back to me. He turns around, a bright grin across his face, and I almost throw up. It’s Damien. Not just the little similarities that I sometimes see in the two, it is actually Damien. His hair elegantly styled, the mayor pin shining on his lapel, and a white rose on the other side.

“Good morning my darling, I hope you slept well.” He’s even doing the voice, slightly higher than the usual tone of Dark. I can feel myself shaking, there’s some overwhelming emotion that I don’t understand coursing through me, and I can’t breathe. My heart is beating wrong, too fast, irregular, and I still can’t breathe properly. It feels like I’m being choked, but there are no hands on me. Hyperventilating. That’s what’s happening. I can’t stop it, knowing it’s happening is just making it worse. I think I’m crying, and a broken, gasping sob breaks through the air. It must’ve been me, but I can’t feel it, can’t feel anything other than the increasing need for air. I feel a hand running through my hair, I struggle away from the touch, but I’m pulled against a firm chest. The soft voice is coaching my breaths, counting in time with the rise and fall of my chest. He gradually slows down, I attempt to follow suit, and it starts working. Even once I can breathe I still can’t stop shaking, and I still can’t stop crying. But at least I don’t feel like I’m dying anymore. I don’t look at the man holding me. I know it isn’t really my Damien, just a cruel trick to punish me for my disrespect. I still don’t want to see him, and I don’t want to hear that voice. Dark lightly guides my face until I’m turned towards him, and I firmly shut my eyes. “There’s no need to be like this, dear. I’ve waited so long to see you, after all. I’m not sure how long it’s been, but my heart has yearned for you every day.”

“Stop it.” My voice trembles.

“Look at me, darling. Look me in the eyes and tell me you want this to go away.”

My heart lurches at the words. Talking like he’s actually Damien when I know that his soul can’t separate from the whole. It doesn’t make it easier to hear his words. I force my eyes open, meet his gentle stare. Why does he need to look just like you? Why couldn’t his form be anything else? It wouldn’t be as easy as containing his aura, he wouldn’t be able to hold onto this form for a long time. He can hold back his aura all day, he could torment me like this for years if he felt so inclined. I try to tell him that I want him to drop the trick, to just look like himself and punish me with anything but this. But looking into his eyes, into _Damien’s_ eyes, I found I couldn’t say it. How could I tell him to leave when there was nothing in this world I wanted more than to have Damien back with me? I can feel laughter in his chest, we both know that those terms have me beat.

 

START OF NON-CON  
—————————--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Can’t do it? I’m not surprised my love, I know you yearn for me the same way I yearn for you. I’ve wanted nothing more than to hear your voice, see you. Touch you.” His hand runs up my side, and I try to wrench myself away from him. His grip is iron, and I can’t move. I have spent years learning how to stop struggling because of this man, and now it all falls out the window. I resist with a fury I have never found in myself before, he doesn’t even seem phased. There’s a reason I learned the futility of fighting, but it doesn’t stop me from trying this time. I don’t want him to do this to me, not in Damien’s form. He pushes his hand under my shirt, his hands feel familiar, and I hate it more than anything. He kisses me gently, I bite his lip as hard as I can, but he isn’t deterred. He just pushes back harder, sloppy with the way his mouth moves against mine. I grab his arms, try to drive him away, but he has me trapped. I’m shoved back against the bed, he wrestles my hands to stay above my head. He lets go of me, starts working the buttons of his clothes. I roll, attempting to get off the bed while his hands are occupied, but his aura lashes out and restrains me, pulling me back to the exposed position.

“Do you want the cuffs? Any more escape attempts and I’ll get the ones with working locks, maybe get the gag out too.” The act is temporarily dropped as Dark growls at me, his face distorted in an angry expression that I’ve never seen on Damien’s face before. It shocks me into being still for a moment, and he looks satisfied as he continues to undo his jacket, and then the white bow tie. I move again, it’s almost unconscious, the primal urge to get as far away from him as possible. I had never felt the urge to flee from them before, since the beginning I’ve learned to stand my ground and deal with what they do to me. To resist in any capacity is new, and I’m not good at it considering I’m caught again in seconds. Dark sighs, stroking my hair while his aura does the work of holding me down and getting the toy box. I knew his threat was serious, maybe it was what motivated me. Damien and I weren’t exactly vanilla, but he never hurt me, never gagged me. I hope it’s easier if I’m suffering, I can be confident that this isn’t Damien if I’m in pain. He would never hurt me. Dark never stops hurting me though.

He’s quick to secure the cuffs, looped around the headboard, keeping my hands trapped right above my head. The cuffs are a click tighter than they usually are, I can feel them roughly scrape against my skin when I experimentally struggle. He does bring out a gag then, my personal least favorite. It’s just a bit too large for my mouth, making it uncomfortable to wear for more than a short stretch of time. The choice is intentional, I’m sure.

“I don’t like doing this to you, but if you’re going to stay alongside me while I oversee this city I need to know I can trust you to listen. I hope you understand, darling.” He strokes my jaw softly, staring deep into my eyes with a tenderness that I haven’t seen in such a long time. My heart aches, and I feel tears stream down my face. I still struggle, weakly. Twist my arms to try and free them, keep my legs clenched when he works to prepare me. It does nothing to stop him, but it feels better than just laying back and taking it. He stretches me slowly, and each twist of the wrist and curl of the fingers is specifically intended to bring me optimal pleasure. I moan helplessly around the gag when his fingers hit just right inside of me, and cry harder since I’m starting to enjoy it. He’s slow drawing his fingers out of me and takes his sweet time lining up and pushing his cock inside of me. I pull at my restraints again, arching my back when he’s fully inside of me. With a gentle touch, the gag and cuffs are gone, leaving my mouth slack and arms sore. I barely start to wiggle feeling back into my fingers when Dark starts pounding into me relentlessly.

“Please, stop. Stop-“ My voice breaks in a moan. I claw at Dark’s back as he continues to fuck me into the mattress. He slides his hand between our bodies, fingering my clit roughly. I bury my head into his shoulder, biting down to hold back my moans. I break skin soon, but he continues without even fumbling the rhythm of his thrusts. I climax before he does, my body involuntarily clenching around him. He finishes not soon after, carelessly filling me with his cum. My body feels numb, I don’t think I can move. I sob when Dark pulls out, cry harder when he lightly kisses my head.  
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END OF SMUT

 

His voice changes, I don’t need to look at him to know he’s allowed his true self to show again.

“I trust you won’t disrespect me like that again, my dear.” I flinch at the term of affection and try to turn away and curl up into myself, but I just can’t gather the energy to actually do it. I feel Dark’s weight leave the bed, hear his footsteps as he crosses the room, and then he exits. I thought it would take more than the trick of an old lover’s voice to get to me like this, but it appears as though I was wrong. I don’t move when I hear the door open, don’t respond to the hesitantly quiet call of my name. I can’t even bring myself to struggle when I feel arms wrapping around me, I just allow them to scoop me up and carry me to the bathroom attached to Dark’s room. I finally look up when I’m gently set in the tub, and see Wilford. His jaw is clenched, but he smiles at me when he notices that I’m looking. He starts filling the tub with warm water, pouring in some sweet smelling bubble bath stuff. He disappears briefly while the water fills the tub, reappearing with a mug of my favorite tea.

“Plenty of cream and sugar, just how you like it!” His voice sounds as pleasant as ever, even if the happiness doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s gentle as he starts to help me wash up, but his hands become firm and massage my tense muscles as he focuses on different areas. I’m silent, even as I hear him quietly mutter “Darling, what did he do to you?”

I couldn’t unload the events on Wil if I wanted to, he wouldn’t understand it. The only person I could actually talk to would be Mark, but I can’t say he’d want to listen… he’s the one who took Damien’s body after all. I drink my tea while Wil gently washes my hair, taking care to use the right products even.

“Are you ready to get out or do you want to soak a bit longer?” He asks when finished rinsing the conditioner from my hair. I can barely hear myself when I ask to get out, but he seems to have heard me perfectly fine as he starts draining the bath, helps me stand and dry off. He hugs me tightly when I’m wrapped up in a towel, and in a blink, we’re in my room. “Before you get dressed I want the doctor to check you out. Especially your wrists, but there’s some serious bruising around your ribs and hips.”

I look at my wrists, just now noticing how much damage I had done to myself when struggling. They’re clean now, not currently bleeding, but they don’t look pretty at all. I stare at them until Wilford returns with Dr. Iplier, who makes some noise of surprise when he sees me. He gets to work on my wrists immediately, rubbing some sort of ointment on them before carefully bandaging each. He asks me to take off my towel, he’s worried about the bruising patterns Wil described. I think I’d notice if something had broken, but I didn’t see the cuts on my wrists, so I obediently drop the towel, sitting still while Dr. Iplier gently checks all of the bruising.

“Well, nothing appears to be broken at least. I recommend icing frequently and taking it easy for a day or two, but they should heal up normally. Definitely avoid any aggravating factors, so, uh. Well, just don’t go anywhere near Dark until those are cleared up, or you may come out with a broken rib.” He doesn’t even pretend to not know the cause, but I suppose the bruising on my hip is very distinctly from a hand. The doctor excuses himself, leaving me alone with Wil.

“So, uh,” Wil starts hesitantly, “What sort of care do you need now? I’ll get you some ice but beyond that… do you want me to stay? Get someone else, leave you alone?” I’m hesitant to answer, not sure the reaction I’ll get from what I want, but I know Wil takes aftercare seriously and is willing to deliver whatever I need after a rough scene, probably why Dark sent him at all.

“Could you get Mark here? I know it’s an odd request, but I just, I just need to talk to him now.” Wil is visibly surprised but quickly agrees to get him here as soon as possible, and then disappears. I need to be able to talk to someone, and while he may not be empathetic, he’ll at least understand how far Dark went. He’s the only one who ever witnessed Damien and I’s relationship after all, other than Dark no one could understand how deeply that would cut.

“Man, what the hell?” I hear Mark shouting from downstairs, probably perturbed by the sudden teleportation. I hear loud sounds indicating struggle coming up the stairwell, and then my door is pushed open.

“Brought you your ice,” Wil starts before dragging Mark into the room, “and brought this asshole too. Call if you need anything else.” He tosses the ice over to me, and I quickly catch it, quickly moving to press it to my ribs. I don’t bother covering myself from Mark’s confused and unhappy gaze.

“The fuck happened to you?”

“Punishment.” He flinches at my response but doesn’t seem surprised. “The physical pain isn’t that bad, it was more of an emotional thing.”

“And what does that mean?”

“He used Damien’s form to do this to me.” He sighs deeply, his gaze softening, posture drooping. He says nothing, but sits next to me quietly and gently pulls me, so I’m laying across his lap. God, he’s such a dick most of the time, but he really knows how to please people. It’s helpful when he’s willing to use his people skills to be nice.

“I don’t have much room to condemn him, but that crossed a lot of lines. Even an idiot like me could see how close you and Damien were. Even when Celine and I were happy we never had anything like that- and that was with you two keeping it a secret.” He laughs bitterly. “The hell did you do to deserve all this?”

“Disagreed with him, was late coming home, sassed him, who knows what the issue was? He was just really pissed, but then he swore he wouldn’t cause me any physical pain that night. Then I woke up to him looking like Damien-“ Mark shushes me now, I hadn’t realized how worked up I was getting. I take some deep breaths to calm down while he continues to pet my hair.

“Listen- I would prefer you ignore this offer since typically the egos hold you in high esteem, but if you need to leave after that… I’d still be pissed, but I can’t say I’d blame you.” I sigh deeply, I hadn’t expected his permission, but I had started to consider leaving. Before moving here, I was building a life for myself on the opposite side of the country. I had managed to get myself enrolled in a local high school so I could update my education. I was well educated for my time, but those standards haven’t held up, and I was even going to enroll in a nearby university after graduating to get a teaching degree- and then Mark contacted me for the first time since I left in the fifties. I hadn’t interacted with the egos after Dark’s first attempt to kill me, but Mark and I stayed close in touch. We weren’t aging after all and needed support from somewhere. I don’t remember when exactly Mark pushed me too far, but I decided I was done with his shit and started arranging a move. I’ve lived in a few different states since leaving, until now when I ended up right where I had started. At least I’m back to what I had always been good at- eye candy and feminine touch in a man’s world. Back then politics, now it’s entertainment, and now it’s abuse and hard emotions and people I don’t like- why do I stay here? Do I feel the need to punish myself so badly? Or am I as deeply tied with the events of the house as Wilford and Dark are? Am I victim to the same ties that forces the egos to stay with Mark? I escaped for so long though.

All these dumb questions, I know why I stay. It really is the same reason that Dark stays working with Mark despite how much he resents him, the same reason for Wilford and for Tyler and Robert, that house bound us together in such a twisted way that we’ll never break free from it. I can escape for a while, but I’ll always end up with these guys again. So I should just suck it up- or I can try to set up limitations. It may not work since they can overpower me so quickly, but I think it’s better than just letting them hurt me. That’s what I’ve been doing for the last few years, and it apparently isn’t helping anyone.

“You wanna know what I think the worst part is? I actually said no. He’s always respected safe words before, but when I gave a hard stop, he didn’t listen.” Mark’s hand suddenly clenches, accidentally yanking my hair a bit.

“He and I are going to have a little chat I think,” Mark growls. He’s never been so fired up on my behalf before, I can’t help but be incredibly flattered. I sit up and slowly get off the bed, going to my dresser to get dressed. Mark leaves the room when I start changing, and I start to worry about his safety. I hear shouting from the hall, Mark is seriously heated. I’m dressed when Wilford is suddenly at my side, protectively holding me close to him.

“We’re gonna lie low and keep quiet in here for a little bit. Things are getting a bit unsafe.” His voice is hushed in my ear, he slowly walks with me to the other side of the room where he has us duck behind the bed. I hear a crash from the hallway and flinch, not sure what the hell is happening.

“ _Let me see her_!” I hear Dark from outside the door and cling onto Wil. I don’t want to face him so soon, really I just don’t want to die right now. I hear a voice evenly answer Dark, I think it may be Google. The house shakes as something is slammed into the wall. “I wasn’t _asking_.” He growls as the door slams open. Will stands up slowly, facing the door with a determined look.

“If you aren’t going to be civilized and apologize, you can just leave right now Darky.” I hear Dark hiss, the air is sharp with a violent ringing. Then it’s quiet, and Wil’s shoulders relax the slightest bit.

“May I please speak to her.” Dark sounds much more collected and I look up at Wil. He nods, so I stand and make eye contact with Dark. He glances to Wil, in what is definitely supposed to be a dismissal, but Wil plops down onto the bed. I raise an eyebrow expectantly at Dark, waiting for him to start.

He sighs before speaking, “I do owe you a sincere apology. You have always held my respect because you never seem bothered or hurt by what we do to you. I underestimated the hold that… _he_ would have on you. I did not foresee that hitting so deeply, but it went too far and for that, I offer my apologies.” I don’t think he’s expecting forgiveness, which is good because he hasn’t earned it yet.

“I have a question for you.” My voice is steady and cold, Dark and Wil look surprised. Dark nods in acknowledgment, so I ask, “Have I ever said no to you before?”

Dark looks surprised and answers hesitantly, “Not that I can recall.”

“Why didn’t you stop when I asked? How could you not have known you were going too far?”

He’s silent for a moment before replying, “I wasn’t listening to what you wanted, I was chasing my own pleasure by taking out my anger on you. I didn’t stop because I didn’t care to hear what you had to say.” It’s brutally honest, and the answer makes me feel sick. But, he’s a demon. To care for others isn’t in his nature, especially when driven by primal urges. Doesn’t mean he’ll be forgiven anytime soon, but I at least understand.

“I appreciate you being honest with me. I hope you’ll be understanding of the fact that I want you out of my sight now. It’ll take me a good while to want to work with you again.” He nods grimly, it seems as though he was expecting that response. He turns on his heel and cracks his neck as he exits. I drop to the bed, feeling more drained than I’ve ever felt. Wilford rubs my back soothingly.

“I’m proud of you, sugar cube. You gotta stand up for the treatment you deserve here, or you’ll just keep getting damaged.” I nod slowly at the advice, wishing I had done it sooner.

“Are Mark and Google okay?” I ask.

“I teleported Mark out when Dark started getting violent, and the wall probably took more damage from Google than Google took from the wall.” I sigh in relief, I’d feel incredibly bad if any of the others became collateral damage because of me.

“You must be exhausted, doll. How about I get Host so you can get some proper rest?” I nod at Wil’s proposal, knowing I really need the sleep so both my body and my mind can recover. I didn’t sleep well last night either so Host’s help would be much appreciated. Wil responds affirmatively, disappearing in a second. He and Host come through the door a minute later, Host wearing what must be his sleep clothes. No coat, just soft looking black pants, and a white t-shirt, and of course the bandage over his eyes.

“The Host would be more than happy to help you get some rest if you would accept it.”

“Thank you, Host.” I smile warmly at him, watching his lips move as he almost silently narrates my actions while I make room in the bed for him. His abilities work better if you have physical contact with him.

“The Host would like to know if you would like the Host to stay with you while you rest or if the Host should leave once you fall asleep.”

“If you want to stay you can, I wouldn’t mind. I know you don’t need the sleep so if you have something to do you don’t have to stay.”

“The Host would be happy to stay with you.” He moves towards the bed now, carefully joining me. He gets comfortable first, then opens his arms so I can lay against him. “The Host wants to know if you are comfortable and ready to rest. The Host understands that the day has been very taxing and is eager to help his close friend.”

“Do you know what happened today, Host?” I turn towards him slightly in surprise.

“The Host would like to clarify his abilities- the narration can control people, or it can allow the Host to see. Using this ability, the Host can see events he was not present for and has in fact seen most important events you have lived through. The Host narrated today for Wilford so he could intervene if necessary.”

“You’ve seen my life through your narration?”

“The Host wanted a better understanding of the events that tied you here, as the Host could not see any reason for you to stay here. The Host understands better since he has learned what happened with the others.” I shudder at the thought of the things Host could have seen using his abilities. Did he ever see any intimate moments or is there a fast forward ability on that? “The Host would like to assure you that while he understands the nature of your relationship with the mayor, he never narrated personal moments.”  
Christ, can he read minds like that too? Or was it just a good guess?

“The Host recommends that you prepare to sleep now, as he feels going into the nature of his abilities is causing more stress.”

“Yeah, you can start now,” I say, snuggling into him tightly.

“The young lady feels relaxed, finally able to unwind from the events of the stressful morning. She no longer thinks of this or of any other worries and lets her mind clear of all negativity or distractions. She feels soothed by the steadiness of the Host’s voice and starts to drift off. She no longer feels the physical ache from her injuries, feels nothing but warmth and comfort. The voice soothes her almost completely to sleep. She will have a long and peaceful, dreamless, sleep, knowing that she is safe with the Host. He continues to speak until she finally falls asleep, and can no longer hear him. The Host’s words affect her whether she is aware or not, and the Host ensures that she will have the rest she needs as long as he is watching over her.”

The Host smiles down at the sleeping girl before looking up to the door. “The Host is able to greet the third person properly now without disturbing the sleeping girl, as she is so deeply asleep she has no awareness of the waking world. The guest is pleased to know that he will not disturb her. The Host knows he is here to ask about the history that leads to today’s events, and the Host reminds him that Host is not permitted to speak of the past and that even just narrating the present today was a risk. The Host knows that the question will be asked anyway, and is preparing to answer as best he can without telling the guest anything at all.”

“Host, please. Does it have to do with something in the past that I can’t remember? Should I have known about this person that Dark could take the form of?”

“Host is moved by Warfstache’s pleas, so he shares a small amount of information that will not disturb the delicate psyche of the mustached man. The Host informs the man that in the original timeline Warfstache was close with the still sleeping girl and closer with the girl’s handsome lover. Many connections between this trio still affect the present day. The Host has the understanding that Warfstache cannot remember this time well for a reason, so Host is unable to disclose any more information.”

“Well, Warfstache appreciates that Host told him anything at all, so he’ll leave and let the Host focus on our beloved girl.”

“Host appreciates Warfstache’s understanding. He continues to soothe the sleeping girl he holds, though she can no longer hear him. He knows she’ll feel better even if she doesn’t hear him directly, and he is happy to see a small smile on her face.”


End file.
